elusive.
by Jessi Purviance
At times, I feel that deep, deep down inside of me there is a writer trying to break through.
A person who could make sense of senseless things by capturing them on paper.
Every time I start to catch a glimpse of her, she disappears again.
Is a writer an artist? Weaving, painting, sculpting mere words and transforming them into dazzling works of art?
Whoever she is, tonight that writer is completely elusive.
Instead, she chooses to paint her words with pictures.
